


The Pod

by Taarbas



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Dream worlds, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Minor Violence, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Somewhat, Universe Alteration, bs'ed science, lotus machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taarbas/pseuds/Taarbas
Summary: While the Lost Light crew finally got to take a breather from the chaos that their lives had become, Brainstorm took his free time and created a machine that would get him back on the map as a brilliant scientist, one that Autobots and Decepticons alike could aspire to be! It could fulfill one's greatest wish, or extract any information one needed from the mind of just about anyone. As a good scientist, Brainstorm keeps it hush hush, and tests it on himself instead of submitting the crew to what might be dangerous.Too bad Brainstorm wasn't prepared for what he'd see.





	1. Testing, Testing

**Author's Note:**

> Second Fic for nanowrimo!  
> Current word count: 7504/50000

The pod was everything he could have hoped for and more. Sleek silver metal ran up the sides of a glass chamber that could be covered with a retractable matte black panel, allowing the person trapped in to be fully immersed in their own thoughts. Then again, if it worked as well as it looked, the panel would just be a neat feature, and not a necessity. It had taken Brainstorm  _ months _ to complete it, bordering on a full year. He was ashamed, afraid he was losing his touch. Then again, with Perceptor and Ultra Magnus breathing down the back of his neck after the little...incident, it had been difficult to get any level of work done, let alone something like this. With barely constrained glee, Brainstorm paced around his new machine, lovingly running his servos over the smooth and shiny metal. The interior was simple, yet just as stylish if he was any judge. A single chair sat in the middle, restraints currently limp down the back or draped on the floor, and wires and tubes dangled from the ceiling, their metal plugs glinting in the low light. They would be used to monitor a patient’s vital signs and brain activity while they were in their simulation, allowing a particularly sadistic person to pull them out at the best parts, or submerge them in something so terrible it very nearly killed them, only to save them at the very last second. And the cycle could continue almost indefinitely…

The cons would have paid good credits for something like this. The autobots would have paid just as well, if not better. But that was only if it worked. And as any good scientist knew, a machine had to be tested multiple times before it could be considered “effective”. Attaching electrodes to his spark casing, he stepped into the pod, settling back into the chair as he pulled the wires and tubes down, connecting them to the electrodes and then carefully working them into his own neck, similar to a mnemosurgeon and his needles. Brainstorm shuddered as they slid home, his optics already dimming as he picked up the control dial. Setting it to “low”, he instructed the machine to show him something pleasant, and to shut off in ten minutes. 

With a faint whirr, the machine came to life, lights built into the wires lighting up as they established connections and began to work their magic. Brainstorm shuddered, helm tipping back to rest against the chair as images began to swim in front of his optics. They were pale and watery at first, barely intelligible, but slowly they began to come through. Blue and white paint flashed in front of his optics, the smell of something clean and sterile following the colors. Brainstorm’s spark stopped as Quark paced in front of him, oblivious to his presence. He seemed to be giving a lecture, but Brainstorm couldn’t hear him. The setting was too low for any of that anyway. “Low” meant memories could be played back, if they were recent enough, and simple illusions could be created. “Medium” took more power and carried much heavier side effects, but it could pull deeper memories free, as well as create complex illusions. This was where full immersion began. “High” created a fully immersive world, crafted to fit the victim's greatest desires or worst nightmares, depending on whoever held the dial.

Low also meant the victim could break free fairly easily, apparently. With a curse, Brainstorm was pulled from his vision, the sight of Quark lingering behind his optics. His spark pounded, each beat sending a knife of pain through him. Swallowing around a lump in his intake, he reached for his datapad, scribbling down a few simple words.  _ Needs more testing. Perfect restraint systems. _ He hardly noticed the optical lubricants that clouded his datapad. 

It was another three months before Brainstorm was able to test his machine again. Perceptor and Ultra Magnus had been too close again, too hovery. It would be worth it though. He knew it would. His restraint system had been upgraded from a simple chair and straps to a full body slab, set at an angle that would allow the victim’s pedes to just barely scrape the floor of the machine. New lines and tubes had been set up, essentially working to keep the victim alive by supplying them with energon and regulating systems. Brainstorm felt positively giddy as he climbed inside, adjusting the electrodes on his spark casing as he snapped wires and tubes into place. The final piece, a mask that went over his face in case his vents went out, was lowered and strapped into place as Brainstorm reached over and turned the dial up to “Medium”. Ideally, he would have jumped straight to high, but he was a man of science, and every level had to tested. The pod shut, restraints locking around him as the machine whirred to life. Images began to form in front of his optics, stronger than ever before. 

Twenty minutes later, Brainstorm stood in front of his machine, tears dripping down his face as he worked at the control panel. Dials and switches blurred together as he worked, fingers stained with optical lubricants. A quick beep told him his settings were saved, and he stepped back into the pod, haphazardly hooking himself up and surrendering himself to the visions. He didn’t leave until he heard the scrape of the Magnus armor being assembled on the floor above him. 

Weeks passed, and Perceptor found his lab quieter and quieter. He was thankful. 

“Where’s Brainstorm?” Perceptor jumped, nearly dropping the stylus he was holding. Rodimus had managed to creep in, all but unheard as he came up right behind the wrecker. Perceptor shook his helm, setting the stylus down as he fixed the captain with a glare. 

“I don’t know. He hasn’t been in the lab, so he’s someone else’s problem. Look, I’m very busy-”

“No one's seen him. Like, at all. For awhile. Even Ultra Magnus is getting worried,” Rodimus cut him off, fiddling with the joints on his servos. “We were hoping he had holed himself up in the lab again. But if  _ you _ haven’t seen him...well he couldn’t have just disappeared! I mean well he could have, lets face it, weirder things have happened, but still! Until others start disappearing or another dead me shows up, this is classified as ‘strange’ and ‘worrisome’.” Perceptor stifled the urge to snort, continuing with his work despite the captain looming over him. It wasn’t like he was worried about Brainstorm or anything, or that the peace and quiet was starting to eat at him in ways he didn’t think possible. And he  _ definitely  _ didn’t miss him. At all. Nope. 

“Anyway,” Rodimus sighed, “Lemme know if you find anything suspicious. Our luck he’s run off to help the Decepticons, not that there's too many of ‘em left with Megs on the ship. Didja know that he gets really upset if you call him Megs? Or Megsy? It’s hilarious. I’ve started addressing his-”

“Weren’t you leaving, captain?” Perceptor interjected, scribbling down notes on his datapad. Rodimus’ shoulders sagged as he pouted, but thankfully took his leave. Perceptor returned to his work, losing himself in the familiar calculations. 

    His chronometer beeping pulled him from his work. Checking it, he found he had worked through multiple alarms already, and that this was his final one. Meaning he was supposed to be waking up from recharge in about three hours. Sighing in frustration, he began to put his tools away, despite the nagging voice that told him to just work through the night. Muttering under his breath, he gathered up a few boxes of datapads, walking towards the large filing cabinets in the back. He was supposed to have done this ages ago, and just kept not having the time. The purr of the lab’s machines filled the room around him, a comforting backdrop to an otherwise menial task. Perhaps a little comforting, as Perceptor found himself dipping into recharge as he worked, optics fluttering shut and fingers fumbling in their tasks. 

    The sound of a box of datapads crashing to the floor was enough to snap him out of it. Cursing and nearly dropping the datapads in his hands, he turned to the box he had caught with his hip, sending its contents scattering. Getting down onto his hands and knees, Perceptor began fishing the datapads out from under cabinets, gathering them up in his arms and dumping them into the box, a problem for another day. They had gotten everywhere, some still near the box and others thrown clear across the lab. Perceptor grumbled, almost wishing Brainstorm was here, if only for the extra set of servos. 

    A single datapad had managed to make its way towards the far back corner of the lab, a place that generally got neglected in every sense of the word. The machinery was old, outdated, and dust had settled on their control panels. Some were lucky enough to be draped in sheets, their draperies unruffled in the lab. Perceptor huffed, crawling between two blocky shapes and fishing out the final datapad. With a relieved sigh, he sat back on his pedes, wiping dust off the datapad with a grimace. He really did need to clean, but it always happened that something came up and he forgot. Getting to his pedes, he turned to leave, when something moving caught his eye. In the far corner, the sheet draped over one of the machines had twitched. It was minute, and for a second he thought he had imagined the whole thing, until it twitched again. Steeling his nerves, Perceptor set the datapad on a nearby console, approaching the machine. As he got closer, he felt the telltale warmth of a machine hard at work. Brows knitting together in confusion, he stepped forward, grabbing the sheet and pulling. 

    The ship woke to a panicked Perceptor tearing through the halls with an equally confused Ratchet in tow, Ultra Magnus not far behind. “He’s unresponsive,” Perceptor explained, voice quick and flustered, “I’ve tried everything, knocking on the glass, trying to override commands through an external terminal, hell I’ve even tried plain old  _ yelling _ . Nothing.” Ratchet nodded, examining the pod and attempting to scan Brainstorm through the glass. The scientist made for a gruesome sight, optics shut and head lolled back against the slab he was strapped down to. Wires and tubes crisscrossed above his head, sinister needles in his energon lines and electrodes secured to his spark and temple. His vents were slow, nearly unintelligible from behind the glass. Perceptor thought he was dead when he first pulled the sheet away, staring in horror at the sight of his lab partner strapped down and used like a cheap tool to experiment with. He had tried shouting, pounding the glass with his fists and kicking it until his pedes ached. It wasn’t until he pressed his face up to the glass, holding his vents to keep from fogging it, for him to see Brainstorm was still venting. Then he had run for Ratchet. 

    “Well the good news is, whatever this thing is I can scan him through it. He’s perfectly fine, a little low on fuel, but otherwise okay. I don’t get it, it’s like he’s sleeping.” 

    “We need to alert the Captains. Maybe they know something about this,” Ultra Magnus chimed in, optics locked on Brainstorms slack face. It was strange enough to see the scientist so still, but without his face mask? And so calm? It unnerved him. 

    “Have you found whatever controls this thing?” Ratchet asked, running his servos around the seam of the glass in the hopes of finding something to get a grip on. 

    “Not yet. Knowing Brainstorm, it’s well hidden.” 

    “You think he did this to himself?” Ultra Magnus asked, and Perceptor found himself nodding, optics locked on Brainstorm. He looked so peaceful, Perceptor almost felt bad for wanting to break him out. But then again, he’d like nothing more than to shake his fellow scientist and knock half a whit of sense into his processor. 

    “Brainstorm has always been...strange. Unhinged, if you will, after his little excursion.” Perceptor paced around the machine, hoping to find a sort of central terminal. “With our luck, he’s locked the device to control this thing inside there with him.” 

    “Gray box, covered in dials?” Perceptor froze, turning to stare at Ratchet. The medic gestured towards the glass, and Perceptor and Ultra Magnus crowded around, peering in. Tucked just behind Brainstorm’s feet was a simple remote, covered in switches and dials, no doubt the way Brainstorm had activated his new invention. 

    “Oh for the love of-” Ultra Magnus coughed, and Perceptor let his sentence go unfinished. 

    “I’m going to go talk to Rodimus and Megatron. Perhaps they know something about this,” Ultra Magnus didn’t sound hopeful, but Perceptor let him go, resuming his search of the their shared lab. 

    “Why do you think he did it?” Ratchet asked after some time had passed, the pair beginning to pull the sheets off old equipment in the hopes one of the machines was connected to the pod in some way. Perceptor had thought to check the wires, and quickly found Brainstorm had done well in hiding them inside the pod or the wall behind it. With a shrug, Perceptor replied,

    “Who knows why Brainstorm does anything? The mech is mad.” Ratchet found himself inclined to agree as they pulled the final sheet off the old machinery, staring at the antiquated switches and dials. Perceptor almost wished they had left all of it uncovered, at least then they could have told which one it was by marks in the layers of dust they would have accumulated. 

    “Welp,” Ratchet sighed, flexing his servos as he switched a monitor on, “If we get started now, we may finish within the night.” 

    Ultra Magnus returned with Rodimus at the same time Perceptor and Ratchet had begun to consider smashing the glass of the pod in. They had worked from one machine to the next, meticulously combing through the minimal programs on them in the hopes of finding anything out of place, anything that could give away what Brainstorm had done. As luck would have it, their search turned up nothing. Not even something that might  _ suggest _ Brainstorm had messed with it. Rodimus huffed at the news, already climbing all over the pod and trying to hook his fingers in anything that looked even vaguely like a seam. Ultra Magnus, with a long suffering sigh, paced over to their captain, unhooking his fingers and prying him off the pod like an errant child. Ratchet shook his helm at the sight, returning to the monitor he had been staring at. With a frustrated sigh and a curse, he rested his elbows on the edge of the keyboard, holding his helm. Perceptor was inclined to agree with the unspoken sentiment. 

    “Look, it’ll all be okay!” Rodimus chirruped, slapping Ratchet on the back before dropping his arm onto the keyboard. “We didn’t think we’d make it through Brainstorm’s time travel mess, and whaddya know? We got out okay-”

    “Rodimus!” Ratchet suddenly snapped, and the captain glowered at being cut off, turning to look behind him. 

    “What?! What is it- Perceptor. Get over here,” Perceptor looked up from his monitor, walking up between the captain and medic. A program had opened up, a smattering of code crossing it before it opened up a control panel of sorts. 

    “How?!” Ratchet demanded, grabbing Rodimus by the shoulder and dragging him to the keyboard. The captain sputtered, shaking his helm as he cried that hit had been an accident. Perceptor and Ultra Magnus stared in shock, jumping to work. 

    “We need a password,” He hissed to Ultra Magnus. The second in command furrowed his brow, pacing in the space between Perceptor and Ratchet. Perceptor sighed, trying the first few obvious ones that came to mind. Nothing. The program thankfully didn’t shut down, but it didn’t allow them to access the control panel either. 

    “Try something to do with a time machine?” Ultra Magnus tried, and Perceptor shook his head even as he typed in every possible word that came to mind. 

    “We need Brainstorm for this,” He grit out in frustration, slamming his servo on the keys in frustration. 

    “Wait! Mmf- Wait! I got an idea!” The pair turned at the sound of Rodimus’ voice. He was half tangled around Ratchet, trying to escape the clearly frustrated medic. “Lemme try!” Perceptor and Ultra Magnus shared a glance, an unspoken decision being made between them. Silently, they parted, allowing Rodimus to bound over to the keyboard. Ratchet grumbled, coming to stand next to Perceptor as Rodimus keyed in a simple word.  _ Quark. _ Perceptor snorted, shaking his helm. With a small flourish, Rodimus pressed the key to test the password, and to the room’s surprise, the program opened up, the control panel fully under their control. 

    “How did you know?” Ultra Magnus breathed, staring at the data flashing across the screen. Rodimus grinned, triumph clear on his face.

    “He calls Perceptor it when he’s drunk.”  Silence descended on the room as Perceptor began testing the control panel, attempting to figure out what did what on the antiquated machinery. 

    “I don’t think we can open it,” He finally admitted after an eternity of fighting with it. “But I have some good news. It appears the function of this pod is to keep the patient alive while the machine feeds them fantasies and visions.” Ratchet sucked in a breath through his denta, optics flickering over to the still comatose Brainstorm. “As far as we’re concerned, he’s dead to the world. But I think we have a shot at something. We might be able to send someone  _ in _ his little fantasy. They might be able to extract him.” Ultra Magnus swallowed, already grabbing Rodimus to keep him from volunteering. 

    “But who?” Ratchet asked. “Rodimus can’t go, he’s our captain. And we need Ultra Magnus. No offense, but I’m not risking myself for Brainstorm.” After a few beats of silence, Perceptor squared his shoulders, turning to Ratchet.

    “If I tell you how to work this thing, could you do it?” The medic shrugged.

    “Could try. Wheeljack was always good with this kinda stuff. I stuck to patching mechs up.” Perceptor nodded, turning to Rodimus next.

    “Is there any research you need done ASAP?” The captain shook his helm.

    “None that I can think of, why?” Perceptor didn’t answer for a few beats, instead searching for cords and wires that they could hook up to the pod. 

    “Because,” He finally said, straightening up with a handful of wires that he passed to Ratchet, “I’m going in after him.” 


	2. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second bit to Brainstorm's machine. The worlds it creates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current NanoWrimo Word Count: 10893/50000

    The first thing Perceptor felt was a blast of cool air, stroking over his plating and curling around his servos. He gasped, twisting in the pool of darkness he was laying in. Light began to filter past his eyes, small dust particles drifting on the beams as white walls came into view. A floor materialized at his pedes, cool tile pressing into his back as he struggled to his pedes. His helm reeled, his optics swimming for a few seconds before allowing the room to settle. A faint buzzing noise reached his audials, the sound horribly familiar. Reaching out, he braced his servo on a desk, hunched over and forcing himself to vent. He felt dizzy and uncomfortable, completely out of sorts.    

    _Perceptor! Are you okay?!_ Ratchet’s voice crackled in his audials, the comm laced with static.

    _I think so. I don’t know where I am_ , He replied, shuddering as he began to pace around the room. He was in a lab of some sorts, filled with top of the line equipment that gleamed and gave off his reflection. The only sound was of processors hard at work, machines whining under their strain.

    _Can you see Brainstorm?_ Rodimus this time. Perceptor shook his head before remembering to vocalize his “no”. _We don’t know how long we can keep you in there. You gotta find him!_ Perceptor didn’t answer, continuing his search. The equipment really was gorgeous, in perfect working order and just begging him to sit down and work. His servos twitched as he brushed them over a microscope, his other already reaching to pull the chair away from the desk so he could sit. A datapad appeared at his elbow, stylus in his servo despite him not having reached for one, and he found himself leaning into the microscope, almost without his control.

    _Perceptor._ Ultra Magnus’ voice made him jump. It was calm and rumbly, dragging Perceptor out of his trance. _Don’t let yourself fall prey to whatever this thing is. You have to find Brainstorm. According to your locator, you aren’t even in the same universe as him. Try harder, please._

    _Right!_ Perceptor called, jerking to his pedes and stumbling away from the desk. He felt like he was trying to move through syrup, his limbs dragging and processor fixated on his desire to sit and work in this lab, _his_ lab. He shuddered, shaking his helm and pacing away. He felt like he was being watched, his spinal strut crawling under his plating as he continued his brisk pace, optics locked on a door. He could hear something chiming behind him, like glass being shaken or knocked against something. Fear bit its claws into his back, and he shivered, grinding his denta together and walking a little bit faster. Coolant broke out across his plating as glass broke behind him, his servo’s slipping on the handle of the door. He refused to look back, pulling the door open with a shaky jerk and stumbling out into more fog and darkness. The last thing he heard from that world was thousands of pieces of glass shattering all at once.

    The next world he found himself in was busy and crowded, mechs pushing past him on their errands. Shaking his helm, Perceptor waited for his optics to clear and adjust to the sudden flood of light. He didn’t feel as dizzy or sick this time, nor as disorientated. His vision cleared, and he paused to take in his surroundings, vent catching in his intake as he raised his optics. Cybertron towered over him, still in its prime.

    _Perceptor? Perceptor do you read?_ Ratchet again. Perceptor almost didn’t answer, so caught up in his awe, but slowly his fingers found their way to his comm link, pressing the little button.

    _I do. I think I’m in Cybertron_. There was silence on the other end for a minute, and for a moment Perceptor feared he had lost contact with the ship.

    _Okay. Your locator puts you in the same world as Brainstorm, so you must have left your’s and entered his. Be careful. Who knows what kind of sick fantasies he’s cooked up?_ Perceptor found himself inclined to agree, eyeing a set of guards off to his right. They hadn’t approached him, nor caused any trouble so far, but one couldn’t be too careful. _Especially_ around Brainstorm. _We think this is some kind of world where he becomes a head scientist. Or worse, rules over Cybertron. Ultra Magnus told me to warn you about anything that appears even vaguely like a switch, dial, or lever. Apparently Brainstorm installed a weapon system in Swerve’s bar that was hidden in the walls, and accidently throwing the lever will get you shot to bits_. Perceptor wasn’t surprised, but thanked Ratchet for the warning none the less. He just hoped the scientist wouldn’t be hard to find.

    _Hey Perceptor._ Rodimus’ private comm beeped in his audial, making Perceptor flinch.

    _What? Why are you calling me over your private comm, the other one was just fine!_ Perceptor snapped, beginning to walk down the sidewalk he had found himself on. He didn’t know where in Cybertron he was, and he really didn’t want to find out the hard way.

    _Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, I don’t think they know what Brainstorm really wants. I don’t think he’d go through all this trouble just to live through some power trip. I mean granted it’s a great possibility, but they’re thinking too logically. Brainstorm’s a scientist yes, but he’s the most emotionally driven bot I know. And that’s saying something. I’ll bet you’ll find him holed up in his room, cuddled up with someone or something. Maybe that Quark guy has something to do with it?_

    Perceptor found himself inclined to agree. Brainstorm might be vain and a little power hungry, but he was enraptured with this Quark mech, if his trial was anything to go by. Sighing, Perceptor continued down the sidewalk, hoping to spot some kind of landmark to lead him around. To his great relief, on the corner stood Maccadam’s, the old sign glowing faintly in the daylight. Perceptor headed up the street, stopping under the overhang to steady himself. He wasn’t sure what he’d encounter on the inside, and for all he knew, he was walking into a literal warzone.

    The door creaked as he pushed it open, the smell of booze and coolant hitting him full force before the door was completely open. It was darker inside, as it always was, and bots were draped over one another, all with drinks at their elbow or in their servos. It was surprisingly calm, loud yes, but no one was trying to throw each other across the bar. Perceptor straightened, heading into the middle of the bar in the hopes that maybe he was lucky enough to find Brainstorm screwing around with some other bots out in the open. It would put this ridiculous search to an end, and Perceptor could go back to doing more important things with his life. Spotting a blue mech at the bar, Perceptor strode over, clearing his throat as he approached.

    Blurr turned, a glass in one servo and a bottle of something in the other. “Perceptor? What’re you doing here? You’re not normally a day drinker,” He said, topping off the glass and passing it to a large purple mech to his left.

    “Blurr, I need to find Brainstorm. Have you seen him?” Blurr flitted from one end of the bar back to Perceptor, his speed making Perceptor’s helm whirl. He _really_ hated trying to keep up with him.

    “Nope. He doesn’t usually come in till nighttime. C’mon Perceptor, you know this! You take a hit to the head or something?” Perceptor hesitated, wondering if answering “yes” would get him more information. Thankfully, Blurr’s motormouth saved him from having to answer. “He’s probably still at home. I’m shocked you aren’t there too, you guys have a fight? Last I saw you, you seemed okay. But hey, what do I know? I just make the drinks, ya know?” He laughed, servos busy preparing some kind of cocktail before flitting back to the opposite end of the bar, handing a bot their drink before flying back over to Perceptor.

    “Could you tell me where his apartment is?” That gave the other mech pause, servos stilling over the next drink he was working on. Slowly, his optics raised to Perceptor’s.

    “You sure you’re okay? Perceptor, I know you’re stressed. Brainstorm’s stressed, Chromedome’s stressed, all our scientists are stressed. But ya gotta take care of yourself. I mean really, what kind of guy forgets where his own home is? Don’t worry, I’ll get someone to bring ya back. Brainstorm’s probably worried sick about you if you’re that bad. Hey Whirl! C’mere!” Perceptor froze at his words, shock and confusion muddling his processor. There was no way he lived with Brainstorm, no matter what world they were in! The rest of his words sank in, and with it came a panic.

    “Blurr! Are you insane?!” He hissed, leaning across the bar.

    “Hey what’s your problem-”

    “Nutjob?! Really?! You couldn’t find me a somewhat more stable mech?! Hell, I’d rather go with _Megatron_!”

    “Nutjob? You mean Whirl? Perceptor c’mon. He’s a nice guy. And who the hell is Megatron?!” Perceptor gawked, about to answer when a familiar voice said,

    “You needed me for somethin’ Blurr?” Perceptor groaned, turning to chase the other mech off. The last person he wanted to deal with was Whirl.

    “No Whirl, we’re all good. It’s all worked out, you can go back to your cocktail binge or whatever it is you’re-” As he spoke, Perceptor turned to face the blue mech, mindful of the guns on his chest, only to realize he was nearly chest to chest with him. No guns loomed in his face, his paint immaculate and unbroken by the usual weaponry. Slowly, Perceptor’s optics made their way up, following his cockpit (and noting the lack of Autobot badge), until he reached his face. The word’s died in Perceptor’s vocalizer as he stared at Whirl, still whole and undamaged. His optics were warm and inviting, a small smile pulling at his lips. The antenna at the side of his head swiveled slightly, standing at attention as he smiled down at Perceptor. As his words registered, his mouth fell.

    “Cocktail binge? What are you on about?” His hand came up, resting on Perceptor’s shoulder before he turned back to Blurr. “Anyway, you needed me?” The bartender’s words slipped past Perceptor’s audials without him hearing them, his whole processor focused on Whirl. He was so _calm_ , so not like Whirl. And he was happy! Perceptor couldn’t remember the last time he saw Whirl actually happy. Their exchange ended without Perceptor realizing it, and Whirl hooked his arm around Perceptor’s, gently guiding him towards the door of the bar.

    “Where are we going?!” He yelped, trying to scramble away. Even without his claws, Whirl’s grip was strong.

    “I’m taking you home, Perceptor. You’re gonna be okay, don’t panic. It’s just me. You must really not be feeling well. Lucky you got two nice mechs at home to take care of ya,” He replied, pulling Perceptor a little closer. The streets of Cybertron were crowded, and Whirl clearly didn’t want to lose his charge. Perceptor allowed himself to be led, trying to take in the sights of the city around him. It was deceptively calm, and he hadn’t seen too many more guards past the first two. And yet, people weren’t fighting. No one was shouting about the Senate, no one was shouting about functionalism or the Decepticon menace. And the _buildings_. They weren’t completely clean, but there wasn’t any of the usual graffiti on them, no “You are being deceived”, no Decepticon badges painted onto the sides. It was eerie.

    “Whirl, where are all the Decepticons?” Whirl frowned, face screwing up.

    “What’s a Decepticon? That some kind of science stuff? You know I’m a watchmaker Perceptor, that ain’t my business.” Perceptor’s helm was spinning.

    “The Decepticons Whirl. Ya know, Megatron...Starscream? Real pain in the aft?” Whirl gave him a puzzled glance.

    “I don’t know any Megatrons, but I’ve met Starscream once or twice. He didn’t seem that bad. I mean, he could be a glitch, but his trine’s pretty cool. Okay, Skyfire was pretty cool. The other two were kinda strange.” Whirl shrugged, oblivious to the complete confusion inside Perceptor’s processor. “They come by Maccadam’s every now and then.”

    “You don’t know anyone named Megatron. Not even someone with a name pretty _close_ to Megatron?” Whirl paused, clearly puzzling it over as he led Perceptor down a side street.

    “Well now that you mention it, that Orion Pax guy _did_ date a Megatronus. I think they’re still together actually. He’s a miner if I remember right. I heard he won Pax over with _poetry_ of all things.” Perceptor was reeling, gawking up at Whirl as they approached an apartment complex. Whirl shrugged, heading inside with Perceptor and leading him to the stairs. “You must’ve really screwed up your head if you don’t remember all that. It was quite the scandal, cross caste and all that. Thank Primus all that mess is over with.” Perceptor had half a mind to ask what that meant, but decided to just forget about it for the time being. Whirl had brought him to a simple door, knocking twice. For a few moments, it was silent, just the two of them in the hallway, before the door opened, a white and blue mech standing on the other side. He looked still half in recharge, glasses somewhat askew on his face.

    “Whirl? What’re you...Perceptor? What’re you doing?” He yawned, covering his intake with a delicate servo. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Can’t you leave a note or something?” He stepped aside, gesturing for the pair to come in. “Brainstorm was about to call the police to try to find you. I guess he went out flying before he woke me up in the hopes of seeing you. Honestly Perceptor, what’s gotten into you?” He scolded, fussing over Perceptor and brushing minute specks of dirt off him. He sighed, shaking his helm as he rested his servos on Perceptor’s chest.

    “Thank you Whirl. Where’d you find him?”

    “Blurr actually found him. He came into Maccadam’s looking for Brainstorm. Couldn’t remember where he lived, so Blurr had me bring him back for ya.”

    “He what? Perceptor, are you ok? Nevermind, clearly you aren’t. We’ll call a doctor later, for the meantime, sit down. I don’t want you passing out and hitting your head,” Quark tutted, guiding Perceptor over to a soft couch and easing him down into it. “Brainstorm! We found Perceptor!” He called over his shoulder, servo resting on Perceptor’s forehead. “Well, you don’t feel warm,” He straightened up, optics narrowing as he looked him over. “Thank you again Whirl, here, let me give you something for your trouble,” As he turned to leave, Brainstorm came rushing in, optics wide and relieved at the sight of Perceptor.

    “There you are!” He gasped, hitting his knees in front of Perceptor and gathering his servo between his own. “Where have you been?! We’ve been worried sick!” Perceptor stared down at him, optics wide at the sight of the scientist without his usual mask. It was still unnerving. Brainstorm leaned forward, and before Perceptor could react, the scientist’s mouth was on his in a gentle kiss. It was over quickly, and Brainstorm glared at him. “I’ve spent the whole morning flying around Cybertron. You couldn’t just leave a note?! What part of your head hurts?” He shuffled forward, straightening slightly to feel around Perceptor’s helm, looking for cracks or dents.

    “No one hurt me,” He replied, wondering if this was even the real Brainstorm. “But I would like to know what’s going on.” Brainstorm frowned, cupping Perceptor’s face.

    “Sweetspark, nothing is going on. We went to bed as usual, and when I woke up you were gone. No note, no comm, no nothing. You can’t blame me for worrying, who knows what could have happened?” He sighed, twining his arms around Perceptor and pulling him into a hug. “We missed you.” Perceptor bared his denta, grabbing Brainstorm’s wings and shoving with all his strength. The scientist fell back, wings clattering against the floor as he stared up at Perceptor in hurt confusion.

    “Don’t touch me again,” He said flatly, his plating crawling at the intrusion. Brainstorm looked like he might cry.

    “Sweetspark, what in Primus has gotten into you?! You’re never like this! Did we do something? You know you can talk to us,” Perceptor hissed, bolting off the couch to grab Brainstorm by the collar.

    “ _I am not your ‘sweetspark’!_ ” Panic began to mix with the confusion in Brainstorm’s optics, and he reached up, untangling Perceptor’s servos from the gap between his neck and chest plating.

    “You’re my conjux endurae. _I’m_ your conjux endurae. Why the sudden change?” He reached for Perceptor again, this time much more cautious. Perceptor slapped his servo away, getting to his pedes and putting the couch between them. He doubted a simple couch would keep him safe from any weapons Brainstorm might be carrying, but it was better than nothing.

    “Explain yourself, Brainstorm.” Brainstorm shook his helm, getting to his pedes and staring at his servos.

    “I don’t understand, Perceptor. You were fine last night. We went out to eat, we came home, watched a movie together, and then Quark was tired so we all went to recharge. You were perfectly okay with us touching you, and kissing you, and holding you. What’s the matter? Did something happen while I was recharging?” Perceptor grimaced, glaring at his fellow scientist.

    “I don’t care about your personal life Brainstorm. I want to know about this _machine_ . Why are you hooked up into some kind of pod, and why the _hell_ am I supposedly your ‘conjux endurae’ here. What the hell is going on?!” Brainstorm’s optics widened to the point it looked they’d pop out of his helm. Perceptor braced himself for his anger, for him to fling himself over the couch and fight with Perceptor, or pull out some kind of gun and force him to duck and cover.

    To his surprise, Brainstorm sank to his knees, fat tears welling up in his optics. His wings dropped, servos coming up to cover his face as he coughed, the tears spilling down his face.

    “No...no…” He groaned, shaking his helm. “This is all wrong! How did you- Who- Why-,” He hiccupped, staring at Perceptor. “How did you find me?” Getting to his pedes, he moved to walk around the couch, and Perceptor lunged forward, grabbing at a heavy book sitting on the end table. It wouldn’t be much of a weapon, but at least he’d get the satisfaction of hitting something. The book didn’t come free. His servos got a grip on it, and as he pulled, it remained stuck, as if it were a part of the table.

    “It’s no use, Perceptor.” Brainstorm’s servo came down on his shoulder, and he flinched, bracing himself for a blow. “I control this world. Everything’s stopped. It won’t move until I let it.” Perceptor turned to face him, staring up at his fellow scientist. Despair was etched into his face, tears dripping into the hollows of his cheeks or sliding past the cables.

    “What are you going to do to me?” Perceptor hissed, fearing the answer. Brainstorm shook his helm.

    “Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re going to stay here, and you’re going to pretend you still love Quark until we get _my_ Perceptor back. Then, you’ll leave. And you’ll leave me alone.”

    “I’m under orders to bring you back.” Brainstorm shrugged, waving his servo.

    “Don’t particularly care. There's nothing for me in that world, Perceptor. At least here, I’m happy.”

    “But this is fake! It’s not even like that weird other universe we ran into! This is completely and utterly fake! A dream!” He snapped, barely resisting the urge to shake Brainstorm. Dead optics looked at him, the flatness of them boring into Perceptor’s spark and leaving it cold.

    “I don’t care. It’s mine, and I won’t let you take it away from me.”


	3. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perceptor and Brainstorm have to deal with each other, and Quark isn't all that he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current Nanowrimo word count: 13922/50000

    As soon as the words left Brainstorm’s mouth, the book Perceptor had been trying to free unstuck from the table, sending him sprawling onto his back. Brainstorm watched with the same dead optics, his mouth twitching into a small sneer as he turned away. In the other room, a cabinet was shut, Quark and Whirl clearly having a conversation as Quark searched for something to give him. 

    “Brainstorm-” He tried, and the other scientist spun on his heel, glaring down at him with an intensity that had him shutting up. 

_     Perceptor! Perceptor do you read?!  _ Ratchet’s voice was panicked in his comm, but he didn’t answer, optics locked on Brainstorm as he loomed over him. To his surprise, he reached down, pulling him off the floor and dusting him off. 

    “If you hurt Quark, I’ll make you miserable,” Brainstorm hissed, an iron grip on his arm as he guided his fellow scientist to sink back onto the couch. “I will  _ not _ have this taken away too,” He continued, half raving, “All my life, all I’ve wanted- snatched away by bastards with nothing in their sparks but murder and-”

    “Brainstorm!” Perceptor cut him off, somewhat shocked the scientist went quiet. “I’m sorry. I really am, for everything. I know I was never kind to you, and tried to get you thrown out of my-our lab-” The look Brainstorm pinned him with had his voice dying in his intake, swallowing around a lump. 

_     Perceptor?! Please Perceptor! _ Ratchet again, this time with static in his vocalizer. 

    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry  _ you _ came after me.” The words were a slap in the face, and Perceptor found he couldn’t deny them. With a small nod, Brainstorm straightened, walking towards the kitchen. “Quark sweetspark, Perceptor’s alright. He’s just feeling a little funny. I gave him some medicine, but I’m afraid he’ll still be a little...fuzzy for a while. Nothing to worry about,” Brainstorm chirped, his voice betraying none of the malice from before. Perceptor shuddered, finally reaching up and touching his comm. 

_     Ratchet? I’m okay Ratchet. Brainstorm can control this world it seems. I think he cut my comm out when he froze it. _ A string of curses followed his answer, and Perceptor sighed, dragging a servo down his face. 

_     How is he? Has he hurt you? _

_     Not yet. He seems angry. He knows I’m not part of his world, and he won’t leave. He doesn’t want to.  _ Another string of curses, this one suddenly getting cut off. Perceptor didn’t doubt Ultra Magnus had had enough and clapped a hand over the medic’s mouth. The sound of pedes coming his way had Perceptor signing off his comm, helm snapping up. Brainstorm was walking Whirl to the door, a friendly smile on his face and a servo resting gently on his arm. They looked like the perfect picture of friends. 

    “Hello Perceptor,” Quark said, gracefully sitting to his right. A servo closed over Perceptor’s as the other came up and cupped his helm, tilting it so he could place a gentle kiss on his cheek. Perceptor found he didn’t react as violently when it was Quark, most likely on account that he didn’t know the other mech. Unlike Brainstorm, who he not only knew, but had to live and work with. “Are you feeling any better? Brainstorm said he gave you some medicine,” His voice was gentle and full of concern, and Perceptor felt a stab of guilt in his spark. He knew that logically, Quark wasn’t real. He was made of a similar material as their holomatter avatars, if he was to take a guess. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel. 

    “A little,” He lied, “I think it might be stress. My processor isn’t keeping up.” Quark nodded, sympathy in his face as he cradled Perceptor’s head to his chest, kissing the top of his helm. 

    “Well, don’t worry. We’ll look after you,” Perceptor caught sight of Brainstorm, optics still dead and flat. A shudder ran through him, and he found himself twining his arms around Quark, if only to put a barrier between himself and those horrible optics. 

    “Thank you.”

    After that, Quark insisted he rest, all but carrying him into their room and laying him on their berth, arranging the pillows and blankets until Perceptor insisted he was fine. He left, but not before insisting that Perceptor call him or Brainstorm if he needed anything. For a long while, he was left alone, and then Quark returned to kiss his helm and tell him he had to leave. 

    “I’d rather stay here, but I have a meeting I absolutely  _ have _ to go to. Brainstorm will still be here, so call him if you need anything, ok?” At Perceptor’s nod, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss over his mouth. “Feel better,” He said as he left, shutting the door behind him. For a few beats, it was quiet, the only sound Quark leaving the apartment. Perceptor sighed, sinking down against the pillows and considering just falling into recharge. He felt exhausted, the strain of resisting his own world and entering Brainstorm’s beginning to catch up with him, along with the lack of recharge from the night before. 

    The door opening startled him out of his exhaustion. Brainstorm stood, illuminated by the hall light as he stared down at Perceptor. While Quark had been around, his optics had taken on their life again, warm and happy and so full of glee Perceptor had questioned whether or not he had actually taken a head injury. But now, they were dead and dull, the light projected by them so dim it hardly lit up the area around his optics, let alone the rest of his face. Sitting up, Perceptor went to scramble out of the berth, only for Brainstorm to push him back into the pillows and take a seat at the foot of the berth. 

    “I can’t find my Perceptor,” He began, “I’ve checked for his signature everywhere. I don’t think I can get him back until  _ you _ leave. Something about it messes with the machine.” He sighed, putting his helm in his servos. Perceptor shifted, wanted to say something to fill the pause, but unsure of  _ what _ . It was true he had been glad Brainstorm had went missing, and that he was only going after him to drag him back and knock some sense into him. And yet...Perceptor looked away, gritting his denta as pity welled in his spark. Brainstorm had clearly been dealt a bad hand, and Perceptor knew it didn’t excuse his actions, but it made him feel for the mech nonetheless. 

    “Brainstorm-”

    “Don’t you dare.” His voice was cold. “You don’t like me. You never have. You never will. Just-don’t. Tonight, you’re leaving. I know you’ve been talking to Ratchet, tell him to unplug you. You’ll leave, safe and sound, and my Perceptor will come back to me. If you want to shut off the machine and let me die, fine. I won’t stop you. Just- leave me here.” He stood, smoothing the rumpled blanket. “Quark will be home soon. Don’t say a word to him. At least let him be happy.” 

    “He isn’t happy, Brainstorm. You just made him that way.” It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, and somewhere in his mind Perceptor knew and acknowledged that fact. And yet it came out anyway. Brainstorm froze, wings shooting up and ramrod straight as his spinal strut stiffened. His servos curled into fists, and cold fear filled Perceptor. The room flickered, the darkness Perceptor had been cast into showing through the walls before it stabilized, returning to a regular berthroom. 

    “You think I don’t know that?” Brainstorm’s voice was so quiet, Perceptor wasn’t sure he had even spoke. “You think I’m not aware of the fact he isn’t real? That I could make him say or do whatever I wanted?” He turned, and Perceptor saw the way his face had pinched up, fat tears coming down his face in waterfalls. Perceptor had never pegged Brainstorm for a crier, but then again with the mask on, it was hard to tell what the scientist was feeling. “You think I don’t know how pathetic it is?!” His voice climbed to a shout, his frame trembling as the dam finally broke and a wracking sob was torn from his intake. “You think I haven’t laid awake, wishing it was real,  _ knowing _ it was a trick?! You think I haven’t felt sick when he tells me he loves me?! Or when he kisses me?!” He grit his teeth, scrubbing at his face with the back of his servo. “But what am I supposed to do?! What else do I have?! This is it! This is all I have!” He laughed, the sound mingling with sniffles and sobs to create an absolutely pitiful sound. Perceptor flinched, guilt creeping into his spark as he watched Brainstorm fall apart. 

    The scientist dropped his optics, staring at the floor as tears dripped and splattered on his pedes. “I never wanted it to be this way,” It was more a wheeze than words. “I thought I could fix everything. I could save Quark, I could keep myself from being made, stop the war, all in one fell swoop. But I failed. And then I thought I could build something that could help people. Get us information, soothe those who had lost someone in the war. And what do I do? I get myself hooked, trap myself in my own invention and rely on a dream. I could’ve gave it to Rung. He could’ve helped Fort Max work through his memories, or Red Alert through his paranoia, or hell, maybe he could’ve found Skid’s memories. And you know what I did? I decided I was going to be selfish, as always. How long have I been here? A week? Two? I don’t even know anymore! I lost track! I don’t even have it in me to care.”  He took a shuddering breath, sniffling and trying to swallow before continuing. 

    “I thought I was going to be noble. Test it myself, make sure no one got hurt. And I managed to screw that up.” Perceptor hesitated, slowly climbing off the berth and padding over to Brainstorm. He didn’t seem to notice, still staring down at the floor as pent up frustrations finally spilled from his mouth. “You know the first world I tried to create failed? I built up Cybertron, gave myself a nice apartment, and then brought in Quark and you. And you know what happened? You  _ hated _ me. Both of you. You mocked me, called me pathetic and asked what everyone would think if they knew my greatest wish was just to be close to someone. You told me, over and over you told me, how you wished we had never bonded. Quark wouldn’t stop telling me about how much he wished I’d never been made. I couldn’t stop either of you. Soon I was hearing voices, mocking me, telling me the truth of how much of a failure I was- I destroyed that world. And I built this one. It’s been going great: I have a job, a lovely apartment, and the people I want most in the world love me. And I can’t even enjoy it.” 

    Brainstorm sighed, taking a deep breath before raising his helm. The tears had slowed down to a few trickles, and his sniffling had calmed down to the point he wasn’t shaking anymore, but he was still clearly distressed, optics watery and jaw trembling. Before he could talk himself out of it, Perceptor found himself hooking an arm around Brainstorm, bringing him close and resting his chin on the top of the other mech’s helm. Brainstorm went stiff as a board, servos limp at his sides. Slowly, his arms came up and around Perceptor, anchoring his trembling frame. 

    “Why are you doing this?” He breathed, ex-vent ghosting over Perceptor’s neck. Perceptor frowned, rubbing his servo between Brainstorm’s wings. 

    “I don’t know.” Brainstorm shoved away, stumbling back with pure terror in his optics. 

    “You don’t know?! No, no we can’t- I can’t- you need to leave. Now. Call Ratchet and tell him to get you out,” He began to pace, still raving, “Tell him I tried to attack you, I tried to kill you! Anything, anything just get out.” 

    “Brainstorm I’m not leaving without you, we’ve been over this.” 

    “No!” He shouted, servos coming up to clutch his helm. “This is all my fault! Oh Perceptor… I think the machine thinks you’re a part of this world. It’s letting me manipulate you.” 

    “Brainstorm that’s ridiculous-”

    “How do you feel? What do you feel right now?” Perceptor frowned, puzzling it over. 

    “Confused. Irritated. Frustrated. Now, can we please-” 

    “Do you want to comfort me?!” Perceptor stopped, staring at Brainstorm. 

    “Yes...why?” The scientist snapped his fingers, muttering to himself before loudly exclaiming, 

    “I knew it! You see?! I’m  _ manipulating _ you. I want you to comfort me, so the machine is trying to urge you to do it! Can’t you see? You need to leave before-” The tears had started up again, no doubt brought on by his panicked rambling, and Perceptor sighed and rolled his optics, stepping forward and grabbing Brainstorm. Jerking the other mech off balance and into his grasp, he cradled his helm against his shoulder, urging him to calm down.  

    “What if Quark comes home and sees you like this? Won’t that be suspicious?!” Brainstorm sniffled, but thankfully nodded, hiccuping and shuddering against Perceptor. They stayed like that for a long while, Perceptor holding Brainstorm and Brainstorm slowly calming down. 

    “I’m sorry,” He finally whispered, and Perceptor nodded, squeezing him tighter. 

    “Quark will most likely be home soon. You need to pull yourself together.” Brainstorm nodded, pulling away from Brainstorm and wiping the tears away. He wouldn’t meet his eye. Perceptor sighed, pulling a rag from his subspace and cleaning the optical lubricants from Brainstorm’s face properly. “Honestly Brainstorm, how do you manage like this?” He murmured, the first note of real concern in his voice. Brainstorm made to answer, mouth open and vocalizer clicking to reset, when they both heard,

    “Perceptor?” Quark’s voice called as the apartment door opened. He was right on time, and Perceptor scrambled to crawl back into the berth as Brainstorm forced his optics to brighten and his wings to perk up. “You okay Perceptor?” The blue and white mech stepped in, shutting the door with a soft “click”. At the sight of Brainstorm, he paused, optics narrowing to glowing slits. “Oh. Hello Brainstorm.” The words were quick and clipped, and Perceptor openly gawked at the sound. Brainstorm deflated, optics dimming. 

    “Quark, sweetspark-” He tried, but Quark stepped away, glaring at him.

    “Don’t. You pathetic glitch!” He hissed, stepping forwards and jabbing Brainstorm in the chassis. “This is all your fault! Just couldn’t be content to go on with your miserable little life, could you?! No! You had to go and muck up mine and Perceptor’s too!” Perceptor froze, shocked by the total personality flip. Brainstorm, however, didn’t seem surprised. 

    “Do you see what I mean Perceptor? I control this world. Sadly, I don’t control all of me.” Quark rolled his optics, scoffing in disgust. 

    “What, are you gonna cry now too? Nevermind! Already are! How pathetic do you have to be?” Perceptor stood, grabbing “Quark” by the shoulder. 

    “I think that’s enough. Brainstorm, this isn’t Quark-” 

    “No scrap sweetspark. You think he doesn’t know that?!” Quark hissed, struggling against Perceptor’s hold. Perceptor ignored him, keeping his optics locked on Brainstorm. 

    “This isn’t  _ your _ Quark either, Brainstorm. You’re letting yourself seep into him,” He continued calmly, resisting the urge to throw Quark into the wall. Brainstorm’s wings dropped, his optics still locked on Quark. 

    “Sweetspark, please,” He tried again, his servo coming up to try to touch Quark’s. The illusion shuddered, slapping it away with a noise of disgust. 

    “Keep your hands off me you perverted glitch! Honestly!” Perceptor shook his helm, taking a step back and forcing Quark back with him. 

    “Brainstorm, listen to me. I’m real. He isn’t. Let it go.” Brainstorm shook his head, reaching for Quark again.

    “I won’t lose you again, please, I can’t lose you again,” He whimpered, and Quark laughed, a sharp and grating sound that set Perceptor’s denta on edge. The illusion smiled, baring its denta as it stared at Brainstorm. 

    “Please, you’ve already lost me. That’s just the way it is ‘sweetspark’. You can never have me. Tarn made sure of that.” His voice was laced with glee, and Perceptor shuddered, pulling the illusion out of Brainstorm’s reach. Brainstorm, however, didn’t raise his servos, instead staring at Quark with an expression akin to a kicked turbofox. The hope had went out of his optics, the light dying with it. Perceptor froze as the ground beneath his pedes began to tremble, suddenly much less sturdy than before. Fine, hair like cracks ran through the walls, working from the corners and making their way towards Brainstorm. To his left, a lamp shattered into hundreds of shards of glass like light, disappearing in curling wisps of shadow. 

    The walls shattered, the pieces disappearing into wisps of shadow as the floor began to crumble and fall away. Perceptor gasped, nearly screaming as a similar crack split Quark down the middle, branching out across his frame and snaking under Perceptor’s hand. 

    “Quark…” Brainstorm whimpered, but stayed rooted in place. “I’m so sorry.” The illusion shattered with a violent “crack!”, the pieces tumbling down between his and Brainstorm’s feet. The shadow reached out, tendrils curling around Brainstorm and pulling at Perceptor. Brainstorm’s helm drooped, his frame still and allowing the shadows to crawl across him as Perceptor struggled, fear making his spark pound. Kicking out, his pede passed through the shadows at his feet, beginning to consume the shards of Quark. The shadows began to swallow him too, and Perceptor struggled, optics wide. The last thing he saw was the shadows swallowing Brainstorm and finishing off Quark in the same motion, and he  swore he heard an echo of “Brainstorm!” in the mech’s sweet voice. 


	4. Picking up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brainstorm comes back to reality, and Perceptor has to figure out just what has gotten into the scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this chapter took so long to get up, life happened and I haven't had a chance to finish it. The fifth (and most likely final) chapter will hopefully be up soon as well. Thank you!   
> Current Nano Word Count: 18635/50000

The first sense to come back to him was his hearing, the sound of machines whirring and something hissing as it slid open slicing through the water in his processor and shocking the rest of his systems into reboot. “Perceptor? Perceptor?” Ratchet’s voice was above him, and his sensornet clicked back on, registering a gentle servo on his arm. To his left, he heard a miserable groan, and he didn’t need his optics online to realize it was Brainstorm. 

“He’s alive Ratchet,” Ultra Magnus reported, and Perceptor forced his optics online, sitting up and looking around the lab. He was still on the floor, Ratchet hovering over him and running the scanner down his frame. Ultra Magnus and Rodimus were unhooking Brainstorm, pulling the limp scientist from the pod and guiding him to the floor outside it, letting him rest against the side. He wouldn’t look at Perceptor, optics locked on the wall behind Rodimus’ shoulder as he sat on the ground. The cables in his face were twitching, struggling to hold his jaw still. Ultra Magnus frowned, glaring down at him with his arms crossed across his chest. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” 

Brainstorm looked at him as if he’d never met Ultra Magnus in his life, face pinched in distress at the sight of the blue mech. Perceptor frowned, attempting to struggle to his pedes. “Easy!” Ratchet scolded, looping Perceptor’s arm over his shoulder and helping him onto his pedes. The room was swimming, and his knees threatened to lock and give out, and Perceptor was grateful that Ratchet was holding him or he would have fallen to the ground right then and there. Brainstorm turned, looking up at Perceptor with the same look he had fixed Ultra Magnus with. 

“Brainstorm! What in hell’s name has gotten into you?!” Ratchet snapped, optics narrowing, “We were worried sick! Well, some of us anyway. And then dragging Perceptor into this- putting him in danger like that- What’s the matter with you?!” Perceptor couldn’t hide his smile as Brainstorm’s wings perked up a touch at the mention that someone was worried about him, confusion clear in his optics as he stared at Ratchet. 

“You’re already in trouble, and now you’ve added to it,” Ultra Magnus added, Brainstorm’s helm whipping around to stare at him. “You are to be placed on constant surveillance. I will watch you until we find a suitable replacement.” 

“Ahem, who’s the captain here?” Rodimus chirped, shoving past Ultra Magnus. Ratchet rolled his optics, and Ultra Magnus stared down at him.

“Megatron.” Rodimus’ finials drooped, face falling into a decidedly unamused expression. 

“And me! And I say  _ I  _ get to decide what happens to Brainstorm!” Crouching down, Rodimus smiled as soothingly as he could at the scientist. “Now, tell me what happened. Everything, from beginning to end. And the rest of you keep your traps shut! I want to hear this.” Brainstorm hesitated, lip quivering as he looked around the group. His servos trembled as he brought them up to rest in his lap, fingers twining together and twisting together. Slowly, the story poured out of his mouth, a few details omitted here and there, but otherwise true and intact. Rodimus smirked at the mention of Quark, shooting Ultra Magnus and Ratchet an “I told you so” type look. Ratchet barely hid his grunt of disgust at the action, while Ultra Magnus suffered in silence. Once Brainstorm finished, Rodimus nodded his helm, getting back to his pedes and addressing the room. 

“Alright, I think we’ve all heard the story. Clearly, he wasn’t  _ trying _ to hurt anyone. At least, not yet.” The looks from Ultra Magnus and Ratchet were skeptical, and Perceptor found himself inclined to agree. “What?! He wasn’t! Sure, it could be used to hurt someone, but he wasn’t gonna use it for that at the time. Listen, no I mean it listen! Ratchet I see you shutting your audials off-”

“Your point, Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus coaxed, and Rodimus jumped, getting himself back on track with surprising speed for their captain. 

“My point is, I don’t think he’s really done anything wrong, aside assembling a machine he wasn’t given explicit permission to. And let’s face it, he does that all the time anyway. So does Perceptor if you wanna get technical. So I say, Brainstorm, you must disassemble this machine and give any blueprints or methods of construction over to Perceptor, to do with as he sees fit, and you will remain under Perceptor’s supervision until he gives us the okay to let you go free. Do I make myself clear?” The scientist nodded, and Perceptor was shocked he didn’t try to argue. He looked tired, more tired than he’d ever seen him in his life. “Well! That’s all I have to say on the matter. And if Perceptor’s okay, Ratchet you can go. Ultra Magnus, if you need me I’ll be in my office.” Brainstorm stood, shoulders and wings sagging as he turned to look up at the gleaming pod. Perceptor saw his intake spasm, struggling to swallow as his jaw twitched. “And Brainstorm?” The scientist turned, still uncharastically silent. “Here,” He held up his faceplant, dented and dirty, but still in one piece. “I found this behind the slab in the pod. I figured you’d want it back.” Brainstorm’s optics widened, servos gingerly picking up the metal and rubbing the dents. 

    “Thank you,” He said after a time, vocalizer filled with static, and snapped the mask into place. Rodimus nodded, seemingly pleased with himself as he left, Ultra Magnus trailing after him while Ratchet gave Brainstorm one last scan. The medic hesitated before leaving, placing a servo on Perceptor’s shoulder and leaning forward. 

    “Take care of him, alright Perceptor? I know we don’t like him much, but…” He trailed off, words leaving him. With a sigh and a pat on the shoulder, Ratchet turned away, leaving the two alone in the lab. Turning back to Brainstorm, Perceptor got his first good look at him since coming out of the pod. His paint was scratched along the back, no doubt from thrashing against the slab. It was dull and dirty, and Perceptor had half a mind to forgo any work for now and just drag him to the wash racks. He couldn’t see his tank levels, but he had a good guess they were fairly low. Knowing Brainstorm, the machine would have provided just enough fuel to keep his frame alive, and not a drop more. As he moved, his joints cracked, disuse making the oils in them run dry and the metal to scrape against itself. 

    Brainstorm’s mask made it impossible for Perceptor to know his expression, but his wings were taut and his back was straight, tension running through his plating. A servo rested on the side of the pod, his optics locked on the single spot. With a small sigh, Perceptor reached into his subscape, pulling an energon cube out and walking up to Brainstorm. The other mech didn’t turn, his vents slow and even in the hopes of disguising how upset he truly was. 

    “Here.” Brainstorm jumped as Perceptor shoved the cube into his servos, clapping his own over Brainstorm’s to keep him from dropping it. “You clearly are under fueled. Drink, and then we can work on disassembling this...machine.” Brainstorm stared at him, looking slowly between his optics and the energon cube. A tinge of irritation ran through Perceptor at the clear distrust. “It’s not poisoned you bloody glitch. Just drink it.” Brainstorm’s optics narrowed, but he opened the port in his wrist none the less, pouring the liquid into it instead of taking his mask back off. Perceptor supposed it would have to do for now. 

    “How do we take this apart?” He asked, and Brainstorm shook his helm, turning away and picking up a screwdriver. “You’re going to have to talk to me sometime,” Perceptor huffed, watching as Brainstorm began to tackle the multiple screws running through pod. He was moving mechanically, no emotion in his optics. Perceptor shuddered, wishing the misery he had seen before hadn’t left. At least then Brainstorm had looked online. Picking up a drill, Perceptor set to work at the screws on the other side of the pod, watching Brainstorm out of the corner of his optic. The scientist was shaking, servos hardly steady enough to hold the screwdriver, let alone slot it into a screw. It really was a pathetic sight, one that made Perceptor’s tank roil. With a frustrated sigh, Perceptor set down the drill and snatched the screwdriver from Brainstorm’s servo. The scientist stared for a few beats, confused, before looking up at Perceptor. 

    “We’re talking about this. Right now.” 

     “There’s nothing to talk about.” His vocalizer crackled with static, though whether it was from distress or disuse, Perceptor wasn’t sure. Perceptor glowered, stalking over and grabbing Brainstorm by the shoulder, hauling him away from the machine to sit up against a desk with him. 

    “There’s plenty to talk about. Why let it get this bad? Why give up your life to live in a dream?” Brainstorm’s knees drew up to his chin, and he continued to stare ahead. “Why bond with Quark when you knew variables could be introduced to make it unstable? Why bond with  _ me _ of all mechs?” 

    “Well aren’t you a dense fragger,” Brainstorm replied, none of his characteristic venom in the insult. Perceptor sighed, letting his helm fall back against the desk. This was going nowhere. 

    “You know destroying the machine would be good for you, right?” Perceptor broke the silence after a long while, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wouldn’t be there to be a reminder. And you wouldn’t have to worry about falling back into it.” 

    “I don’t want what’s good for me. I want to feel happy.” Brainstorm snapped, jumping to his feet. The sudden shift had Perceptor scrambling to his feet, staring in a mix of fear and concern at Brainstorm. “Oh don’t look at me like that! Did you really think I’d be okay with this? With coming back to this-this-” His vocalizer offlined, and Brainstorm in-vented, plating cracking as the expansion forced stiff joints to move. He swallowed, intake struggling to work as he jabbed a finger into Perceptor’s chassis. “No one on this ship takes me or my science seriously. If something happens, if they need a scientist, they go to  _ you _ . My work is invalidated at every chance they get,” As he spoke, he stepped forward, forcing Perceptor to stumble back. “And now you’re going to be all high and mighty with me?! ‘It’s good for you’, frag it! I don’t care! I never will!” He shook his helm, but to Perceptor’s relief, didn’t start crying. He couldn’t help but wonder if being under the machine’s influence made him more emotional. 

    “Why don’t we go get a drink? I’ll tell Ultra Magnus we worked on it plenty, and that you needed to refuel. He’d understand.” Brainstorm stared at him, caution in his optics, but nodded, allowing Perceptor to place a servo between his wings and walk him down to Swerve’s. The halls were empty when they left, most of the crew asleep. If Perceptor’s chronometer was still correct, it was around one in the morning. Brainstorm was silent as they walked, his optics locked straight ahead and servos politely held at his sides. Perceptor had never seen him so subdued. 

    The bar was packed. Swerve bustled around, a tray of drinks clutched in his servos as he rushed from the tables to the bar and back again. Chromedome and Rewind were dancing, the minibot laughing as Chromedome spun them. Tailgate was watching them, optics bright as he tugged at Cyclonus’ servo, no doubt begging him to dance. As they approached the bar, Perceptor finally noticed Whirl, slumped on the bar with his optic half lit. He ordered another drink, his vocalizer static filled and slurred, and Swerve set an energon cube in front of him before working on Nautica’s drink. To Perceptor’s surprise, Rung was with her, a data pad clutched in his servos and a beaming smile on his face. Perceptor doubted they’d be able to hear each other discussing whatever book they had picked up this week, but somehow he didn’t think they’d care much. Rung just liked being paid attention to, and Nautica liked to dance. 

    "Hey Percy,” Swerve called, still persisting with the nickname despite Perceptor having told him to stop. “Brainstorm! No briefcase, I hope?” Brainstorm’s chuckle was dry and devoid of humor. Swerve faltered, optics lingering on the scientist before coming back to Perceptor. 

    “We’d just like some plain engex Swerve. Please.” The bartender nodded, reaching under the counter and placing two cans in front of them. Normally, Perceptor wouldn’t even think of drinking the stuff, but if it meant keeping Brainstorm away from mid-grade, or worse, then he could suffer through having to drink engex. Swerve looked like he wanted to stay and talk, but someone calling his name on the other end of the bar had him smiling apologetically, rushing over to see what they needed. Brainstorm pulled his can over to the edge of the bar, twisting it between his fingers and rocking it back and forth. Perceptor opened his, but didn’t drink. If things went sideways, he’d rather be sober. Eyeing Whirl, he sighed. After seeing the mech not brutalized, it was hard coming back to reality. 

    “I thought about that, ya know.” Perceptor turned, staring at Brainstorm. He had removed his mask, lips pulled into a small frown as he stared at Whirl. The can of engex sat open at his elbow. “How I’d face everyone afterword. Especially Whirl. He’s wonderful from a scientific standpoint, a perfect example of how empurata victims lose more than just the obvious. Whirl the watchmaker would never dream of doing what Whirl the wrecker does on the average Tuesday. And yet, the wrecker has no remorse.” 

     “Are you going somewhere with this Brainstorm? Or do you just enjoy dissecting everyone?” 

    “And you don’t?” Perceptor glowered at him from the corner of his optic, opting to choke down a drink of engex to avoid answering. Brainstorm shrugged, unfazed by Perceptor’s silence. He was already bouncing back, a smirk playing at his face plate as he needled one of the mechs next to him. Perceptor frowned, setting down the can and observing. 

    Within the hour, Brainstorm was lively, optics bright as he swung his arms in grand gestures, pedes tapping against the floor or the barstool. Swerve offered them more engex, and Perceptor thanked him but politely refused on behalf of both of them. Engex may not have been strong, but he was  _ not _ about to carry Brainstorm back to the lab. When the mech finally left, Perceptor seized his opportunity, grabbing Brainstorm and dragging him out of the bar. Once outside the door (and safely out of reach of Ten) Brainstorm whirled away, wrenching his wrist out of Perceptor’s servo. 

    “What gives? We were having a good time,” He said, dancing away as Perceptor made to grab him. “I thought you wanted me to be happy?” 

    “I wanted you to stop sulking. And now that we have, we’re going back to work.” Brainstorm frowned, pulling his faceplate from his subspace and snapping it into place. His optics were still warm with mirth, crinkled around the edges as he smiled. 

    “Maybe I don’t want to. Would you want to destroy one of your life’s greatest achievements? Let alone this being the second time I’ve had to do that.” Perceptor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but not grabbing for Brainstorm again. 

    “Brainstorm, do I have to call Ultra Magnus? I will.” Brainstorm laughed, continuing on his way down the hall. Perceptor followed. 

    “Really Perceptor, do you always have to such a stickler? Rules were meant to be broken, especially if they pertain to gravity.” Curiosity bit into Perceptor at the allusion to an experiment defying gravity: he didn’t doubt Brainstorm would be able to do it, but quickly snapped himself back on track. 

     “Yes. One of us has to. Besides, it’s only logical for you to be on your best behavior right now. You’ve had more second chances in the past few years than most mechs have had their entire lives. And you keep blowing them! I’m starting to think you should start seeing Rung.” Brainstorm grimaced behind his mask, shaking his helm at the mention of the therapist. 

    “So I’m a problem to be fixed?” 

    “That’s not what I said and you know it.” Brainstorm cocked an optic ridge, peering at him over the mask.

    “Sure is what it sounded like. It’s alright. You wouldn’t be the only one.” Brainstorm shrugged, brushing it off a little too easily for Perceptor. 

    “Brainstorm, are you alright? You seemed distressed when we were in the machine, but now you’re...well you seem alright. It doesn’t add up.” Brainstorm’s step faltered, optics losing their mirth for a split second before he was snapping back up to full height, bounce in his step and light in his optics. 

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied, his steps getting a little more hurried. They could both see the door to the lab. 

    “I think you do.” 

    “I think you’re crazy. Maybe you should go see Rung?” Brainstorm punched in the lock code, barely giving the doors enough time to open before rushing in. Perceptor sighed, following at a much more reasonable pace. 

    “I think you’re avoiding my question.” Brainstorm ignored him, picking up the heaviest drill they had in the lab and turning it on full blast. It was loud, the sudden noise making Perceptor flinch. He was pretty sure Brainstorm had shouted something about not being able to hear him as he tackled the screws in the pod, but Perceptor wasn’t quite sure. His audials were ringing too much. 

    By the end of the night, the metal outside of the pod had been removed, and most of the inner components were completely taken apart. A few sat on desks, still wired into drives and circuit boards. Perceptor was tempted to leave them. His chronometer was ticking, telling him it was nearly four in the morning. He was exhausted. Brainstorm had stopped talking to him, only stating he didn’t want to talk about Rung or therapy or himself. Perceptor had pushed the issue, trying to wheedle out information, but was only met with stubborn silence. 

    He missed the constant chatter, if he was being honest. It made for decent background noise as he worked, and if he was lucky, sometimes what he said triggered a discovery. It got annoying after a while, but at this point Perceptor was desperate for it. A low charge alert popped into his feed, and he dismissed it frantically. He would not pass out. He would not pass out. He would not-

    He woke up stretched out on a table. The metal was cold against his back, and with the chill came fear. Had Brainstorm strapped him to one of the lab tables? What was going on? Attempting to move dismissed the fear of being strapped down, and Perceptor opened his optics to find the other scientist standing over him. Brainstorm’s optics went wide, and he stumbled back, wings knocking over a cup of styluses on the desk opposite them. Perceptor sat up, a blanket he hadn’t noticed pooling around his legs. 

    “What were you doing?” 

    “Observing! You uh, passed out.” Perceptor’s optics narrowed at Brainstorm as he climbed off the table, folding the blanket in his hands. 

    “Why not wake me?” If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he heard Brainstorm’s fans click on.

    “I tried,” He admitted, uncharacteristically nervous, “But you wouldn’t wake up. I even tried to pry your optics open.” 

    “What else did you try?” Confusion flitted across Brainstorm’s face. 

    “The usual. Yelling, poking you. ...I may have slapped you.” Perceptor sighed, shaking his helm as he walked past Brainstorm to fix the cup of styluses. 

    “Why did your fans turn on?” As if waiting for Perceptor to notice them, the fans got louder. Brainstorm sputtered, stumbling back when Perceptor turned to face him. 

    “I suddenly remember I have a very important meeting I must go to with-”

     “Brainstorm.” Perceptor’s tone was clipped. 

     “You’re cute when you recharge.” Perceptor blanched, staring at Brainstorm in shock. The scientist shrugged, tapping his pede. “There. That’s out of the way. The pod’s disassembled, you can check it over if you like. I’m going to recharge.” His tone was far too casual. 

    “Brainstorm we are not brushing over this-” 

    “Szzt, what was that? Shkkt I think- shhhktz- I’m-” Perceptor gawked, hardly able to believe Brainstorm would attempt fake static in a face to face conversation. Then again, he really wasn’t all that surprised. 

    “You are a man of science!” Perceptor shouted as Brainstorm darted away, “Act like it!” There was a quick wave before Brainstorm darted out of the lab. 

    Perceptor returned to the lab in the afternoon, expecting to be alone. He hadn’t seen Brainstorm since waking up from recharge, and he highly doubted the scientist would be in the lab. Most likely, he was drinking himself into a stupor at Swerve’s. Punching in the code, he stepped into the cool lab, going to his desk and shuffling through his datapads. He needed the one with his notes on the engines of the Lost Light, but found he couldn’t find it. Cursing in frustration, Perceptor turned away, drawing up short at the sight of a covered tray of energon sweets on the desk opposite his. It didn’t belong to Brainstorm or Perceptor, and as such tended to serve as a place to store extra datapads or equipment. And while there was no official rule against food in the lab, both scientists usually only brought food in their subspaces, and would leave if they needed to eat. Walking over, Perceptor noticed a small slip of paper tucked partially under the tray, elegant,if not cramped, handwriting taking it up. 

_     Perceptor, _

_     Allow me to apologize for my behavior in the pod. I was not myself, and though that is no excuse, know I will never act in that way towards you again. It was out of line, and unprofessional, and I clearly made you uncomfortable. I would hope that this would not affect our work relationship, but I understand if it does.  _

_     -Brainstorm _

     Perceptor frowned, rereading the note a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He had never pegged Brainstorm as the apologizing type. Setting the note down, he gingerly picked up the tray, moving it out of the way of various equipments and (still sealed) chemicals. Pressing the button for his comm, he paged Brainstorm. Static crackled in his audials, his signal going through but not accepted. Rolling his optics, he settled into his desk and began to work. 

    It wasn’t until his chronometer read 6:42pm that Brainstorm entered the lab. He didn't reek of booze, refuting Perceptor’s theory that he had been holed up at the bar. He stopped short at the sight of Perceptor.

    “Where have you been?” Perceptor asked. 

    “Recharging. I thought you'd be gone by now.” 

    “You know I work late. And how did you put these in here if you were recharging?” Brainstorm walked over to the tray, taking the clear cover off and counting the treats.

    “You haven't had any.” He sounded hurt.

    “You haven't answered my question,” Perceptor countered. Brainstorm glowered, looking between the tray and Perceptor. Picking up a small cube dusted in what looked like powdered rust sticks, Brainstorm walked over to Perceptor, setting the treat next to his servo. 

    “Try one, and then I will.” Perceptor frowned, weighing his options. On one servo, he didn’t know if Brainstorm was trying to trick him. On the other, it would be a good show of trust towards the other scientist, and may work to patch up their rocky relationship. Picking up the treat, Perceptor bit off a corner, ignoring the way Brainstorm’s optics lit up with delight. 

    “There. I tried one. Now, did you leave these? You said you were recharging.” 

    “I was. But after you left this morning I snuck in and left them.  _ Then _ I went to recharge. Honestly Perceptor, and you call yourself a scientist.” He perched on the edge of the desk uninvited, pede nuding Perceptor’s thigh as he spoke. Usually, Perceptor would have snapped at him to get down, but today he left him alone. 

    "Why would you leave them? And why the note? Don’t you think that’s something that should be discussed in person?” Brainstorm stiffened minutely, optics guarded over his mask. Sliding off the desk, Brainstorm walked over to his own, picking up a stylus that had been left on it and twirling it between his fingers as he began to pace. 

    “I thought you might like them,” He answered, shrugging nonchalantly and continuing to spin the stylus. 

    “Well that’s one question. A good start,” Perceptor replied sarcastically. Brainstorm shrugged, seeming unfazed as he set the stylus back down onto his desk. Perceptor stood, walking over and grabbing the other scientist’s arm to prevent him escaping. Brainstorm flinched, helm turning away ever so slightly when Perceptor grabbed him. He hesitated, grip loosening on his arm. It would be no use to scare the scientist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” He assured, and Brainstorm shrugged again.

    “Didn’t think you would,” He mumbled, tugging his arm out of Perceptor’s grasp. “I don’t do apologies in person. They never come out right. That’s why I left the note. That’s it, no ulterior motive, no tricks, just me not being able to talk.” 

    “So you thought leaving a note and then avoiding me for the rest of our lives would be the best alternative? And what’s this about not being able to talk? You were a double agent, talking was your thing.” Brainstorm shrugged. “If you shrug at me one more time I’m going to glue your shoulder struts in a permanent down position.” There wasn’t any actual threat in his words, and Brainstorm laughed, holding his servos up in mock defeat. Perceptor’s spark sputtered at the sight, actual glee back in Brainstorm’s optics for the first time since going missing. Even in the pod, it had looked false, like a mask that didn’t fit quite right. 

    “Then allow me to correct my previous statement,” Perceptor could have done without the obvious mocking of his accent, but he’d take what he could get. It was near impossible to make Brainstorm take anything 100% seriously anyway. “I can talk to people just fine. I can lie and bullshit my way past Ultra Magnus, which is no easy feat by the way, even for someone like me. But for some reason, I can’t talk to  _ you _ . Happy?” Brainstorm pulled away, perching on the edge of his desk and hooking the heels of his pedes in the handle on a drawer. 

    “And why not? We’re partners, are we not?” Brainstorm’s fans clicked on as Perceptor stepped forward, preventing him from diving off the desk and running. They were going to talk about this if it was the last thing Perceptor was able to do. 

    “That’s part of the problem,” He grumbled, optics flickering up and down Perceptor’s frame. “Look, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, I think I should do that. Don’t you? I think you do.” Brainstorm hopped down, moving to push past Perceptor. The scientist grabbed him by the arms, holding him in place and forcing him to look him in the optics. If Perceptor didn’t know better, he’d swear Brainstorm’s fans had cranked up. 

    “We aren’t done with this. And I was serious about you seeing Rung. You come talk to me when you’re done, understand?” Brainstorm nodded, swallowing past a lump in his intake. Perceptor nodded, seemingly satisfied as he let go of the other scientist, returning to his own desk. Brainstorm shivered, watching Perceptor for a few moments before darting into the back of the lab, grabbing his old notes and blueprints for a weapon Whirl had commissioned. At least those didn’t make his helm spin. 

  
  



	5. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perceptor gets some advice from Rung, and finally works up the nerve to talk to Brainstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this got sappy. Just- here, take it.  
> Nanowrimo Word Count: 21878/50000

 

“I don’t understand Rung, he keeps acting stranger and stranger,” Perceptor groused, staring down at his energon cube. “Just the other day he told me I looked cute when I was recharging. And then he proceeds to tell me he can’t talk to me. The nerve!” Rung frowned, taking a small drink from the cocktail in front of him. Swerve had set it in front of him without announcing whatever it was, which led Perceptor to believe there was enough alcohol in it to knock Whirl out. Swerve tended to avoid announcing the stronger drinks, especially if someone had company, which, for once, Rung did. 

“Perceptor, forgive me for prying, but what exactly happened to you two while you were in his world? All you’ve told me is you fought.” Perceptor felt his faceplates heat up, and he shifted on the bar stool. 

“He was...bonded with me. And Quark. But he tried to kiss me and I threw him into a coffee table. Then he got confused because he thought it was  _ his  _ Perceptor.”

“Why did you throw him into a coffee table? Couldn’t you have defused the situation a little less...violently?” Perceptor sighed, taking a drink from his energon cube and drumming his fingers against the bar. He didn’t like thinking about the kiss, it was confusing and made his spark ache. 

“I panicked. I wasn’t prepared. My relationship with Brainstorm is purely professional, I would never expect him to try to kiss me, even with his desire to touch people.” 

“And how else do you feel about the kiss?” Perceptor glanced over at Rung from under his optic lids, trying to read the therapist’s expression behind his glasses. He had a certain tilt to his helm, his antennae straight up and completely still. Perceptor had seen him with a similar look before, listening to Fortress Maximus talk about his memories. 

“I am unsure. I...I thought it disgusted me,” Perceptor slowly admitted, dropping his optics to the bar once more, “But I don’t think it did. I think it just...took me off guard.” Rung nodded, taking another drink from his cocktail. Perceptor wondered if there even was any alcohol in it, with how easily the other mech drank it. Perceptor sighed, putting his helm in his servos. “I don’t know what to do. He tried to apologize to me through a note, and I cornered him and tried to get him to tell me what was going on. He told me he couldn’t talk to me. I tried to get him to tell me why, and all I got was that us being partners was part of the problem.” Rung’s servo came to rest on his forearm, the touch gentle and light. 

“Perceptor, I hope this doesn’t come across as overly blunt, but have you asked him about any feelings he has for you? And furthermore, do you have any feelings for him?” Perceptor sputtered, jerking away from Rung and staring down at him with wide optics. The therapist pursed his lips, shaking his helm. “I apologize. I did not mean to cause you any distress-”

“He clearly has feelings for me,” Perceptor said, staring at his servos. “I...I have been incredibly dense. Thank you Rung.” Perceptor stood, and Rung stood with him, antenna lowering. 

“Perceptor, please don’t do anything rash. I wouldn’t want you to damage the relationship you have with Brainstorm currently.” Perceptor’s shoulders drooped as he stared down at Rung. Placing a servo on the therapist’s shoulder, he replied,

“Thank you Rung. I assure you, I will keep a level head. However, we need to talk about this.” As he turned to walk away, Rung followed him.

“And I understand that, but Perceptor, you know Brainstorm. Perhaps a mediator-” 

“I’d rather we do this alone, Rung. But thank you.” Rung stopped, sighing in defeat. 

“Very well, but if you two need me, I’m here. Be safe.” Perceptor nodded, thanking him one last time before heading out of the bar. The hallways were largely empty, most mechs already off work and either in the bar or in their hab suites for the night. Perceptor knew Brainstorm wasn’t at the bar, and he so with a determined set to his shoulders, he headed down the halls, looking for Brainstorm’s hab suite. As he walked, he rehearsed his interaction. He would knock, Brainstorm would answer. Perceptor would say hello, maybe ask to come in, or maybe he’d just settle for having the conversation in the doorway. He could ask Brainstorm about the kiss in the pod- no, too blunt. Perhaps he could ask him about his comment on them being partners? Yes, Perceptor decided, he’d do that. Brainstorm would flush, perhaps look away before he answered that partners had a ring to it that reminded him of bonded mechs, and it was a bit of  stab in the spark, so to speak.  _ Then _ Perceptor could lead into the kiss back in the pod. Perhaps he could apologize for throwing Brainstorm into the table, try to make up for it somehow. Maybe he could admit that the more time he spent around Brainstorm, the more his spark pounded. That he went into the pod not just to knock some sense into Brainstorm, but because he actually missed him. That had taken some spark searching to figure out. 

Groaning, Perceptor shook his helm. No, that wouldn’t do. Too many variables were in place for him to make even somewhat of an educated guess as to how Brainstorm would react, and with his luck, Brainstorm would react poorly, possibly even violently. Glancing at the room numbers, Perceptor approached Brainstorm’s, raising his fist to knock. He hesitated, familiar worry bubbling in his spark. He hadn’t exactly been the...nicest to Brainstorm. The other mech had all the right to be angry with him, to hate him. Perceptor sighed, letting his servo drop. Perhaps it would be best to leave well enough alone. Turning away, he began to head back down the hall. 

“Perceptor? What are you doing?” The scientist jumped, spinning on his pede. Brainstorm had opened his door, peering around the corner. His mask was off again, lips pulled into a frown and brows knit together in confusion. “You just stood at my door and then left. Is something going on?” Perceptor floundered, desperately searching his processor for an excuse. He almost wished Ultra Magnus had been hit with a particularly nasty bout of anxiety again, at least then he’d have a laundry list of tasks he could chose from. The last time it had happened, he had preformed maintenance checks on the ship's innerworkings at least three times a piece. Thankfully, Rung helped him work through it before it got any worse. 

“How did you see me?” He answered lamely. 

“Security feed. What, did you think I  _ didn’t  _ hack into them? Honestly Perceptor, I am nothing but not thorough in my rule breaking.” Perceptor gave a half hearted laugh. 

“Well, very well. Brainstorm, I...I would like to speak with you. In private.” Brainstorm’s frown deepend, more confusion filling his optics. Stepping aside, he gestured for Perceptor to come in. Perceptor nodded as he passed Brainstorm, stepping into the habsuite. It was small and dark, equipment and datapads scattered across the berth and the floor. Stepping over a microscope, Perceptor made his way to the window, resting his servo on the frame as he steeled his nerves. 

“What’s going on?” Brainstorm asked as he shut the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Perceptor swallowed, wondering if he should just make up some kind of lie about his research. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the other night.” Brainstorm stiffened, wings raising slightly as his optics took on a guarded look. 

“And what about it?” 

“Your comment about us being partners. It was strange, to say the least. How was us being partners detrimental to your ability to speak with me? If anything, that should make it easier. We know each other better then.” Brainstorm pushed himself off the door, walking over to Perceptor and taking a seat at the end of the berth. 

“It’s complicated. Nothing you need to worry yourself about,” Brainstorm replied, waving his servo as if he could dismiss the thought. “With us being partners, I have a lot of respect for you. That makes me worry that I will disappoint you.” 

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Perceptor countered, “You once told you love dissapointing me because it usually meant you had built a great weapon. I saw it as dangerous and foolish, you saw it as fun and loud. But fine, I’ll accept your answer, for now. But then tell me, Brainstorm, why you spoke so easily with me when you thought I was your creation. And don’t say because you had created me, I saw what happened with Quark. What was so different about me there and me here?” Brainstorm looked away, playing with his servos. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t understand.” Perceptor frowned, walking over to the berth and placing a servo on Brainstorm’s shoulder. 

“Then help me understand.” Brainstorm tensed, shoulder pushing against the palm of his servo, but he nodded despite it all. 

“Very well. But you’re the one who asked. Perceptor, I am a very lonely mech. A very, very lonely mech. I have exactly one friend on this ship, and that friend is Whirl. And as you know, Whirl isn’t the most friendly or stable of bots. The only other relationships I have involve work, and by the allspark I’m going to cling to them with both servos. You’ll forgive me if I didn’t want to go mucking up one of the only relationships I have with my own feelings. In the pod, I didn’t have to worry about that. I had friends, actual, lovely friends. And I had you and Quark, my conjux endurae. I could talk to you as I pleased Perceptor. I didn’t have to worry about complicating a strictly work relationship with unreturned affection. Here, I don’t have that. I don’t have friends to fall back on if I were to try to pursue a relationship. And yet, here I am, doing just that. I’ve been trying to keep it from you, hell even calling you simpatico was a risk.” Perceptor frowned, crossing his arms. 

“And how did you know your affections would be unreciprocated?” Brainstorm gave a self depreciating laugh, tipping his helm back to stare up at Perceptor. He didn’t seem upset, completely resigned to his fate. 

“You didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms. And besides, I’m used to it.” Perceptor flushed, straightening slightly at the mention of his previous behavior. 

“Yes, about that. Brainstorm, I’m sorry. For everything. For treating you so poorly when we first had to work together, and for what happened in the pod. I shouldn’t have thrown you into that coffee table.” Brainstorm waved his servo again.

“Don’t be. Shouldn’t have kissed you. I thought you were my Perceptor. He didn’t mind being kissed. Must have really freaked you out, huh? Did you end up purging?” Perceptor was taken aback, staring down at Brainstorm with obvious shock and concern on his face. 

“No! No, I did not end up purging. It was a kiss, not a disease. And...yes. It did catch me off guard. I limited myself to see our relationship as strictly work related, nothing more, nothing less. It had never occurred to me that you may have held feelings for me. But...I am not completely opposed to that. You having feelings for me, I mean.” Brainstorm laughed. 

“I know right? Gross- Wait what?!” The scientist’s helm spun around so fast Perceptor was certain he heard neck plating crack. His mouth hung open, optics wide and filled with confusion and shock. Buried under it all, Perceptor could make out the faintest glimmer of hope, carefully tucked under layers of fear and distrust and wariness. It made Perceptor want to reach out and hold Brainstorm, stroke his servos across the other scientist’s helm. It was completely illogical, and Perceptor knew it, but the feeling remained nonetheless. 

“You have never been inappropriate with your feelings, excusing the...misunderstanding in the pod. You have been polite, or as polite as you can get, I suppose. And you have never pushed them onto me. In fact,” Perceptor realized, “You’ve never spoken to me about them at all. I was not aware you even held feelings for me until the pod. Brainstorm, suppose I returned those feelings. Suppose I would like to try to start over, apologize for my past actions and try to make them up to you. I have been out of line, yes, and needlessly cruel at times, but I would like to try to make up for it.” Perceptor began to pace, refusing to look at Brainstorm lest he lose his nerve. “I want you to be happy. Scratch that, if I could find a way to go back and reassure you every step of the way that you will be happy one day, I would. And if you being happy means you go off with some other mech, then I will be happy for you, and you can forget I ever spoke of this. I am aware that it is most likely too little, too late, anyhow. But, I am also selfish. I have feelings for you Brainstorm- ah! Don’t speak, or I’ll lose my nerve and we will be back to square one!” 

“I will admit, at first I did not think I could have feelings for you, or anyone for that matter. I thought you made me feel different because I couldn’t trust you, because you were so eccentric. It made me wary of you, made me want to keep you at arm's length at least. And I realize, it was wrong of me, and unfair to you, but I’ve realized now that in reality, it was…” He sighed, trailing off. “Brainstorm, I beg your forgiveness, and I completely understand if you want to keep this relationship professional. I will leave, and we can pretend this never happened. I will not bring it up again, nor will I hold your choice against you, whether personally or professionally. Do you understand?” Perceptor finally took his optics off the floor, raising them to meet Brainstorm’s. The scientist looked like he might cry, optics bright and shining. 

“Why me?” He breathed, staring up at Perceptor. His mouth was still agape. “Of all mechs, why me? Is this some kind of joke? Did Whirl put you up to this?!” His servos shook in his lap as he stared up Perceptor, face falling into a frown. Perceptor walked towards him, kneeling in front of Brainstorm and taking one of his servos. There was no sense in looming over the other scientist, he didn’t want to freak him out anymore than he already was, after all. 

“No joke,” Perceptor replied, squeezing Brainstorm’s servo. “I simply figured it would be best for me to admit that. An exchange, if you will. I did not mean to cause you any distress.” Brainstorm shook his helm, squeezing Perceptor’s servo. 

“But why me? You’re intelligent, you’re strong, you could go off with just about anybody. Why me? What do I have to offer? You’ve seen what I’ve done, you know how far I’m willing to go. What do you see in me?” Perceptor felt his spark twist, and he brought Brainstorm’s servo to his face, placing a chaste kiss into the palm. Words he had only ever allowed to come to him in the dead of night, when he was so sleep deprived he knew he wouldn’t remember them in the morning came pouring out. Endearments, declarations of love and promises of affection all took to the air, filling the room with Perceptor’s gentle voice. Brainstorm quivered, servo curling in Perceptor’s grasp as his wings lowered in a show of vulnerability. He parted his knees, allowing Perceptor to come closer and let Brainstorm drape himself over him in a hug. Perceptor felt warm tears drip onto his plating, Brainstorm’s soft sniffles joining his words. The endearments began to run dry, and Perceptor kissed his palm again before saying, 

“If I could have the chance to go back, to change everything, I would. I would not have taken out my confusion on you. I would have stopped Quark from being captured. I would have been there every time you thought of yourself as broken, or unlovable, or irredeemable. And I would have told you how wrong you were, how wonderful and smart you are. I could have convinced you you weren’t past loving, and maybe then you could have been happy.” Brainstorm choked, his servo pulling away from Perceptor’s to twine around his neck. His wings trembled as he cried, face tucked into the space between Perceptor’s neck and shoulder. Stroking his servo up and down Brainstorm’s back, he let the other mech calm down, his shuddering breaths catching at every stroke. Perceptor returned to the endearments, dropping his voice to a whisper. He pulled away, staring at Perceptor with watery optics. 

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I? Or am I still in the pod? Please, don’t let this be a dream. I’ve woke up from too many like this.” Perceptor hooked his fingers into the grooves of Brainstorm’s helmet, pulling him down until they were cheek to cheek. The cables in Brainstorm’s face twitched, his jaw locked tight to keep from sobbing. 

“You’re awake. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Brainstorm nodded, servos grabbing Perceptor’s shoulders and using them as an anchor.  

“Thank you, thank you,” Brainstorm mumbled against Perceptor, repeating the phrase over and over. Perceptor hushed him, placing a gentle kiss on Brainstorm’s cheekbone. 

“There is no need to thank me. You are not a burden to be dealt with.” Brainstorm shivered, sniffling once more before turning to press a kiss to Perceptor’s cheek. Perceptor hummed, leaning against Brainstorm and allowing the other mech to slide off the edge of the berth and into his lap. They sat together, a tangle of limbs as Brainstorm cuddled close to him. Slowly, his sobs turned to hiccups, and his tears began to dry. 

“Tell me you aren’t going to leave now?” Brainstorm whispered, his voice so low Perceptor had to strain his audials to make it out. He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss onto the top of Brainstorm’s helm before hauling the other mech up. Brainstorm yelped, grabbing at Perceptor as he stared down at the floor before Perceptor dropped him onto the berth. Perceptor turned to grab a chair to stay in, he was able to walk about two paces before something pulled him back. Brainstorm had grabbed his servo, pulling him back to the berth and tugging until he climbed on, burrowing under the frankly ridiculous amount of blankets Brainstorm had hoarded. Shifting so no one was being stabbed by any wings or limbs. They ended up laying face to face, Brainstorm tucking his legs between Perceptor’s. One arm was sprawled across Perceptor’s chest, the other tucked under his helm as Brainstorm leaned it to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. Perceptor smiled, untangling his arms in order to wrap them around Brainstorm and tuck him against his chest. They were asleep within the hour. 

 


End file.
